
Back when the world was new, I was a career woman, living on my own, working at the University of Arizona. I believe my work ethic was valued among my peers - you could give me a job and know that it would be done with all due haste and to the very best of my ability. Bosses loved me, co-workers sought my counsel, and most saw me as the go-to girl on the job.
Unless it was time for a potluck or other food related gathering. At this point in my life, I either ate out (courtesy of whatever guy I was dating at the time) or feasted on gourmet offerings such as Campbell's soups and frozen pot pies. Summing things up, let's just say I was no Emily. (And lest there be any misconceptions, let me also add there was a whole lot more of the soup and pot pies than dinners out with dates.)
I didn't even have to hope that the rolls/drinks/paper goods/plastic utensils slots would be available for big company food fests - my name would automatically be inserted into one of those no-brainer catagories on whatever list was being circulated through our third floor office. People knew me and they knew my skill set when it came to cooking.
EXCEPT FOR THE ANNUAL CHRISTMAS PARTY. The party to beat all parties when the stakes were high and the food mighty fine. For whatever long forgotten reason, I decided to make sugar cookies one year. And not just any sugar cookies. Mine were works of art, worthy of being framed and hung on the walls of some snooty art gallery that didn't exist in Tucson, Arizona during the mid to late seventies.
I used incredibly intricate cookie cutters with vast detailing inside. Santas, ornaments, angels, nutcrackers - and a whole host of others I can no longer remember. What a pain these were to work with! For each carefully delineated plastic line, I had to use just the right amount of light flouring to keep the cookie cutter from sticking into the dough while still pressing deep enough to create every fully carved out detail. And that was only the beginning of the tedious, time-consuming labor of love that went into these cookies!
Using an egg yolk paint and food coloring, I then carefully painted each cookie in dazzling full-color beauty. This step took up literally hours of my time, using a tiny watercolor brush. And, as if that wasn't enough work, once the cookies began baking, I had to take them out of the oven midway and touch up the places where expansion of the dough had created blank spots on my small doughy canvasses.
The end product was dazzling. Beautiful. Spectacular. Totally awe-inspriing when viewed ever so nicely arranged on a large cookie plate. People in the office would talk about these cookies for months ahead of time. By about mid-November I had co-workers sidling up to me in a spy vs. spy stealthy kind of way, asking if i'd make a batch just for them. Depending on how much I liked the petitioners, I'd grant these requests. This meant many, many nights slaving over a batch of elaborately painted cookies because heaven forbid I should give anyone something that wasn't absolutely perfect. (This was before I had kids and lost a lot of my neurotic compulsion to do everything faultlessly.)
Speaking of kids, that's when my Sugar Cookies as Art obsession ended. After Tim came along, I found a whole lot less time for things such as stamping out intricate cookies and then spending a gazillion hours painting and touching them up. Guess what i discovered - simple form cookie cutters were a swell idea! And colored sugar sprinkled liberally over the dough made cookies that tasted pretty darned good, even if they didn't look quite as professional. Bonus: even little children (my own) could help with sprinkles. (One of my readers will no doubt be able to recall a rather hilarious video we have of Tim on Sprinkle Duty. He was about 2 years old and having a bit of difficulty mastering the nuances of measured, even sprinkling.)
You know the oddest thing about the whole sugar cookie history lesson? I honestly think the original recipe I used for the Masterpiece Cookies wasn't even all that tasty! Or maybe it's just that substituting brushed egg yolk with lots of sugar sprinkles can't help but enhance the taste of the cookie. I'll take taste over artistic value any day of the week.